Two: Buy Lingerie

The next morning I bolted awake realizing I had a problem, a really extensive one. My bras did not match my panties. I’m talking about everything I owned, including the pieces in my trousseau. I couldn’t believe I’d let these items be unpaired, like misfits on a pathetic Saturday night. This oversight made me feel like a mere girl, one who was already panicked despite the dawn hour. I needed to get back to the lingerie store we’d passed on our tourist excursions the day before.

This shop had a name that seemed to promise what I was missing—Intimissimi. I had to get to Intimissimi! Unfortunately, there were too many relics Kurt wanted to me to visit that day, and in the days after.

As the week progressed, my mood turned sour, especially when Kurt took me to yet another ancient church. There, I was sure to find the Pope, his image, anyway. Unfortunately, the Pontiff at that time, Benedict, looks exactly like one of the pedophiles that violated me when I was a small child.

On the last day of our holiday, my trauma culminated in a blinding panic attack at the Vatican, inside the Sistine Chapel.

After fleeing the Chapel and taking refuge in St. Peter’s Basilica, I waited for my bewildered husband to find me. I couldn’t explain what had just happened to me. But walking back to our hotel, through the historic streets of Rome, I knew something had to change. I had to start being honest with myself about how being molested as a toddler still affected me, even after decades of therapy.

For one thing: intercourse hurt. This wasn’t just the discomfort I’d always experienced in the past. It was intense burning and pain.

About this Blog

This is a blog about healing from sexual violation, as well as from any other issue that can keep us from enjoying the full experience and expression of our sexuality. It’s inspired by my journey seeing 15 practitioners and trying 30 different modalities so I could rid myself of the last vestiges of my childhood sexual abuse. Along the way, I learned the cutting edge of trauma recovery, female pleasure, overcoming bedroom dysfunction, and having awesome relationships. The pink couch is where I share where I learned, and where I hear from you too. So pull up a chair…

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